


Broken Glass

by TheShadowsInMySoul



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Bellarke, F/M, Hurt, Inspiration, motivation, thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-12
Updated: 2015-02-12
Packaged: 2018-03-12 00:49:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3338006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheShadowsInMySoul/pseuds/TheShadowsInMySoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Their blood is on your hands. And, even if we win, I'm afraid you might not be able to wash it off." Clarke knows it's wrong, but all she was thinking about was the person inside Mount Weather.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken Glass

"Their blood is on your hands. And, even if we win, I'm afraid you won't be able to wash it off this time." Clarke knows it was wrong, but all she was thinking about was the person inside Mount Weather.

Clarke felt the shock wave before she knew exactly what was happening. She had seen the missile, she had seen the look on her mother's face, but Clarke couldn't quite put it together.

She was laying on her stomach, thrown by the impact, and it felt like she didn't have enough energy to lift her head. Clarke's ears were ringing, there was an ache in her head where it made impact with the ground.

Her bones felt tired, and she was tempted to just sleep, but Clarke didn't. She lifted her weary head and started to call for her mom.

"Are you alright?" Clarke questioned, reaching for her moms hand, but suddenly it wasn't there anymore.

"You knew." The venom in Abby's voice made Clarke wince, the words cutting her deep.

"We had no choice, mom, otherwise the mountain men would know that they had an insider and I couldn't just leave Bellamy, because he risked his life to save me and the others countless times..." Clarke began to rambled frantically, trying to justify here choice that led to so many deaths.

"We had no choice."

***

After the fires were out and the dead had been gathered and wrapped, placed in the crater that many perished in, it was the middle of the night and getting close to the morning.

Lexa and Clarke were the only surviving leaders, and Lexa decided that they needed to honour their fallen comrades and address the other tribes.

"People, we have suffered a great loss. As the remaining leaders, the Skye leader and I, the commander, address you. We must fight back. They have decimated our village, and many of our people. We, all of us combined, may beat these mountain men and get us our captured back. Though revenge will only get us those who have been taken, and not those who have fallen, it still gives us a chance. Blood must have blood."

The crowd was roaring by then, and Clarke felt a pang in her chest. Blood must have blood, but this time, it was really us who killed them. 

Watching these people come together was beautiful, but also terrifying. What happens when they find out that it was all her fault?

***

Clarke was breaking down. Four nights before, she had started screaming at nothing but a shadow in the temporary camp that they had set up. 

Tears had been rolling down the blondes cheeks and one of Lexa's guards caught her as she started to fall, murmuring "I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry" over and over again. 

***

Three nights before, Clarke had been at the river washing herself off, and was muttering something that sounded like "why won't it come off" at her hands. Octavia, who had gotten the whole story from Indra, came up beside her and kneeled.

"What's wrong Clarke?" She had asked. The younger Blake had begun to worry about her friend after the screaming episode, and this only made the sinking feeling grow.

"It won't come off. It's all red and it won't come off," the blonde muttered angrily and threw her hands down into the clear water. 

Octavia glanced at Clarke's hands, and all she saw was hands that used to be pale that were rubbed raw, and there was no dirt to be found. Her heart broke just a little at the sight of her old leader going back to scrubbing her hands. Bell would know what to do, was all Octavia could think.

***

Two nights ago, Clarke wouldn't come out of her tent. There was a war council scheduled, and Clarke couldn't stand to see her mother staring at her across the table with judgemental and cold eyes.

Clarke buried herself in a cot that had been constructed for her by the ice clan as a sign of respect, and was wrapped in blankets made by the fire clan. 

The gifts didn't make her feel warm and safe though, it just made her feel dirty and guilty because she had killed their people and they were giving her presents.

Raven waltzed in after Clarke refused food.

"This is ridiculous," the mechanic declared before grabbing the blankets and tearing them off the blonde. Clarke squirmed, suddenly cold without the fur layer there and tried to grasp at the warmth.

"You need to get up, get out, and get over it. The missile killed people, we all lost someone, I get it, but this is ridiculous. We can win this war now, and your sulking in here like a child." Clarke looked her friend in the eye, and swallowed.

"But I killed them. It's all my fault."

That stopped Raven's rant, and made her look at Clarke quizzically. 

"You did nothing. The mountains men built it, the mountain men aimed it, the mountain men fired it. There was nothing you could have done."

"But I knew."

Raven then closed her mouth, and just watched as the brave Princess grabbed the cleavers and pulled them back over her head.

***

One night ago, Wick flew towards Clarke and the words he said nearly stopped her heart.

"Bellamy's been caught."

The two rushed towards the ark room that had been dedicated to the radio channel, and were there in a flash. Clarke walked in and went straight towards the radio.

"How do you know? Did the president contact you? Is he dead?" Clarke fired out questions at a rapid fire pace, and her only response was a loud thump of a door closing and the clank of the lock being put down.

"Hey! Hey! Let me out? What is wrong with you people."

There was no reply so Clarke went and sat beside the radio. Clarke had just started to think up escape routes when the radio crackled with static.

"Princess?" Bellamy's voice flooded through the speaker and Clarke's eyes widened. Of course the little shit had been lying.

"I know you're there. Raven and Octavia told me that you weren't eating, and she was worried about you. I'm worried too."

The static filed the air again as Clarke contemplated not replying. Slowly, the blonde picked up the radio.

"Why should I eat when all those people will never eat again because I didn't tell them they would be blown to bits?" Was her depressing response.

"Princess, you can't honestly believe that this whole thing is your fault, can you? You have tried so hard to make peace with everyone, to unit them. I almost did that exact same lie back in the early drop ship, what ever the hell you want days when I convinced the camp Wells was killed by grounders. It doesn't feel good, but it inspires and right now that's what you need. Inspiration."

***

That night, Clarke left her tent of her own free will, no tricking required. She ate some food, went to her war meetings, and all she could think of was that she was like broken glass. All it takes to put it back into place is a set of careful hands. Bellamy Blake's hands.


End file.
